“Here’s to tha Cutie Mark Crusaders! Give it up for their fantastic routine!” Short, sweet, and straight to the point - just like how Applejack liked it.
“Hear hear!” All the ponies clanked their cups and downed their ciders. Well, most of them did. The aforementioned Crusaders only succeeded in spilling the majority of their drinks down their chins and cheeks, causing an even louder uproar from everypony.
“Woah there, guys!” Rainbow Dash howled between her laughter. “Don’t party too hard!”
Applejack fetched a box of tissues and wiped the mess, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “Careful with that, girls. Don’t want the stars of the Equestria Games chokin’ during their own party!”
The three fillies took a few seconds to clear their throats before grabbing several tissues and wiping their coats. “Sorry, sis,” Apple Bloom coughed out. “Just got caught up in the hype is all.”
“You said it!” Scootaloo added excitedly, even with the tissue covering her face. “Did you see the crowd cheer?! I felt the ground shake, it was so loud!”
“Yeah! My heart was beating so fast, I thought we were already at the Games!” Sweetie Belle, while quieter than her two friends, could not contain her exhilaration and took a steadier sip from her cup.
“I know displaying your hard work in front of a crowd can do that, darling,” Rarity said as she wiped her sister clean. “You worked hard on your routine, and the payoff makes it all the worthwhile.” She clanked Sweetie’s cup with her own adroitly and took a generous sip.
“Woah, Rare!” Rainbow chortled. “Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!”
Rarity delicately dabbed her mouth with a tissue and pouted at her. “Rainbow Dash, please. Do not act like a party stallion when these drinks aren’t even alcoholic. Besides, a lady must always try to remain professional in any situation.”
“After dealing with Harshwhinny, I’m done with professionalism for the day!” Rainbow downed her second mug and brushed off the foam on her mouth with a hoof. “‘Rainbow Danger Professionalism Dash’ just doesn’t flow right. Harshwhinny needs that stick up her—”
“Rainbow Dash!” Rarity hissed, glaring at her brash friend.
“—out of her rump more often.” Rainbow Dash grabbed a new mug from the table, taking a big gulp from it and winked at Scootaloo. “No doubt you and your scooter was a big part of that.” She ruffled the filly’s purple mane, causing her giggle.
“All of y’all deserve credit,” Applejack insisted, playfully but pointedly elbowing her friend in the ribs, who returned with a one-hoof hug to crush the farmpony’s neck. “Your routine wouldn’t nearly be as great as it was if one of you were left out. Ponyville’s home to all ponies, after all.”
Scootaloo weakly chuckled. “Yeah. I guess it was kinda stupid of me to not go in the first place, huh?” she muttered and rubbed the spot where Rainbow had just patted. It felt weird to bring it up, but she could not stop herself.
“Hey, come on,” Rainbow got close and wrapped a soft wing around her. “You made up for it with a totally awesome performance, and you get to carry the Ponyville Flag for the Games! I think that deserves forgiveness, don’t you?”
“You said it, Rainbow Dash.” Applejack nodded firmly in approval at the sentiment. Both Applejack and Apple Bloom sat next to Granny Smith, who was enthusiastically peeling apples. Even with the difficulty of handling utensils with hooves and the trouble her bones gave her on occasion, Granny Smith was no slouch in apple-carving, if the small mountain of beautifully peeled apples and the peels stacked in a plate was any proof.
“All three of ya did us real proud.” Granny hi-hoofed Scootaloo as she and the rest of the ponies joined around the table. “Now we got two celebrities in tha family.”
“Vah tha bvay,” Apple Bloom mumbled through a mouthful of apple. She was quickly reminded of her table manners, however, as both Granny and Rarity stared at her, their unspoken lectures about ‘ladylike behaviour’ and ‘shamin’ the family’ reaching her, causing the filly to swallow before continuing. “Where’s Big Macintosh? He’s missin’ out on the fun!”
“He’s been workin’ in the orchard, busyin’ himself with whatever needs fixing and doing. He’s probably nappin’ in tha barn.” Granny Smith tutted and cut her current apple into smaller chunks. “Poor fella, always workin’ so hard to miss out on her sister’s special day.” She took a chunk and chewed slowly, reminding Apple Bloom of a camel she had once seen visiting the town.
“Aww, that’s alright, Granny Smith!” Apple Bloom chirped. “Yeah, he’s always working hard, but if he didn’t, who would help Applejack with the apple bucking season?” She aimed a mischievous smirk at her sister. “We don’t want her sleepin’ on the job, right?”
Everypony but Applejack giggled; the orange mare instead turned red in the face and lowered her Stetson over her eyes to hide her sheepish expression.
Scootaloo had the weakest laugh, however, and she looked down her mug as if wondering to drown herself in it.
“I mean, really? A pegasus pony at your age? You should’ve been flying long ago.”
Yes, both she and the other Crusaders had been chosen as the flag-bearers, and Rainbow Dash had told her that even if she couldn’t fly, she would still be the coolest pony around.
But why do I still feel so...small? Is that the right word? Nononono... insignificant? Lacking? Yeah, that. Why do I still feel like I’m lacking something?
She silently drank her cider and swallowed her share of apples while everypony’s talk devolved into what she thought of as “girly-gossip”. She drowned out their voices and fidgeted with her mug. Even the apples, which were near-worshipped by Ponyville, had lost their flavor and turned into a bitter tang in her mouth.
I tried and tried as hard as I could, but I still couldn’t gain air for more than a few moments, even on my scooter. Am I gonna be stuck riding that thing to hover forever? Is that really all I can do?
“No way!” she grumbled, louder than she had intended. Rainbow Dash and Sweetie Belle, who were sitting beside her, turned to face her, both with different expressions.
“You don’t think Rainbow can take out a twister by flying in the opposite direction it’s spinning in?” Sweetie Belle squeaked, looking at her with a surprised expression.
“Come on, squirt.” Rainbow nudged her, wearing a disappointed look. “Sure, maybe not a very big one, but a mild one I can totally stop it in its tracks!”
“Uh, wha-?” Scootaloo rubbed her eyes and saw everypony staring at her. “Oh, sorry, guys. Guess all the food is making me sleepy.”
“Ya tired?” Applebloom asked. “Already?”
"Well, I guess it’s been a long train ride from the Crystal Empire,” Sweetie mused.
“Need a flight back home?” Rainbow got off her chair and stretched her back and wings, “Hop on, kid. I’ll take ya.”
“No, that’s fine!” Scootaloo yelped; again, more loudly than desired. “I just need a walk. You know, to burn some of those apples.” She leapt off her own chair and mimicked Rainbow Dash’s stretching before taking a last swig from her mug. “I wouldn’t want to ruin the fun by leaving already. Mind if I take a walk in the orchard?”
“No, that’s fine… but you sure?” Applejack asked worriedly. The sun was setting, after all. It was rare for anypony, let alone a filly, to be out at night. That in itself wasn’t terribly frightening, but with the acres of apple trees in the orchard, getting lost in it without a light was plausible.
“Yeah, Applejack. I swear I’ll just be by the barn.” She gave the most honest smile she could and walked to the door.
“If you’re headed to tha barnhouse,” Granny Smith interjected before she could leave, “can ya wake Big Mac and tell ’im to sleep here? Poor colt knows he needs his rest, but he could use a mattress too.”
“You got it, Granny Smith.” But before Scootaloo reached the handle, a blue hoof caught her own. Rainbow Dash stared at her, a hurtful look in her eyes.
“This isn’t about the...you know, “flying” thing?” Rainbow looked at her with a rather sombre expression, even for her. “I didn’t mean it like that when I wanted to give you a ride. I just thought you wanted some company.”
Scootaloo could tell how serious she was about this. Being reminded about her flying skills was indeed a reason for her glum mood, but she knew there was something more to it. It was like a pebble stuck between her feathers after crash landing.
“I just want to think something over by myself,” she insisted. She tried to smile again, but it didn’t come on as strong as before. “It’s not like I’m gonna cry about it behind the barn, Rainbow Dash.”
She didn’t know what made her say it, but the point seemed to be driven home as she uttered Rainbow Dash’s name. She saw most ponies’ eyes widen at the declaration as if she was going off to do just that. It made her digestive tract shrivel when Applejack approached.
“If she wants ta have some time fer herself, let her have some,” Applejack said, smiling gently at the filly. Scootaloo looked at her in surprise, but she continued, “She’s getting old enough ta start thinking by herself, don’tcha think?”
Rainbow exchanged glances with Applejack and Scootaloo before giving up with a similar smile. “Alright then, squirt.” She pushed the door open. “But I can still take you home, right?” she asked hopefully.
Scootaloo’s face brightened. “You bet, Rainbow Dash!” She gave her a quick hug and jogged outside.
Rainbow looked at the leg Scootaloo had just hugged and frowned. “You don’t think something’s bugging her still, do you?” she asked Applejack.
“Ah wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
Applejack and Rainbow jumped when they heard Granny Smith behind them. Surprising how an old mare like her can be so inconspicuous at times. “After all, Big Mac’s in tha barn.”
Applejack frowned. “But didn’t ya say he was asleep?”
Granny chuckled, but Applejack knew this one. She only chuckled like this when Granny knew something she didn’t. Even the Element of Honesty couldn’t figure out what her own grandmother had cooking in her wizened brain when she was like this.
“He always did overwork himself.” She ignored the two mares’ stares as she slowly returned to the chair.
Scootaloo didn’t stop running until she made it to the barn. By the time she did, she realized just how far away the building was. Her throat was parched for another mug of cider, and she had to lean against the barn to recover. When she tried rubbing the tiredness out of her eyes, she noticed her fetlocks were damp with tears.
“Hmph. So much for not crying by the barn,” she mocked herself, hiccupping slightly.
But why? What’s wrong with me? What’s got me so worked up that—
Suddenly, shocks of pain rang from her stomach, causing her to drop to the ground, clutching her belly.
“Shoot. Now I get why everypony says not to run after eating.” Scootaloo did her best to hold back her groans and pushed herself to the barn door. The last thing she needed was Rainbow Dash seeing her so pathetic and helpless.
It took some work, but eventually, the door made way for her with a loud creak. She peered inside and was somewhat disappointed to find nothing out of the ordinary: just some farming equipment, old hay bales, and some lamps here and there.
Why would hay bales be here? Better yet, why lamps?
Her curiosity was sated when she noticed, at a corner, several fire extinguishers in a glass case with a sign that read “In case of fire” in big red letters underneath.
Well, that answers that question. Now to find Big Mac. Where could he be? This place is just one giant hut, how hard can it be to hide in here?
Indeed, there was nothing here that was big or Mac, so where was he?
“Did he already wake up and went back to the house? Nah, I would have seen somepony as big as him,” Scootaloo wondered out loud. “But before I go back…” She turned to her wings expectantly. Flapping them a few times, she closed her eyes in concentration and mustered as much courage she could.
“Maybe I can win if I work twice as hard. See...oof!”
“Maybe...three times as hard.”
“I’ll just work four times as hard!”
"Come on, Scootaloo... you can do it…” Beating her wings as hard as she could, she felt her hooves leave the ground. Her smile, however, did not last long. The familiar feeling of hopelessness filled her when her wings tired out after a few seconds. As fast as she could flap them, something about their size or the configuration of their feathers always made taking off harder than propelling herself on her scooter.
“Just a... bit longer….”
She opened one of her eyes and looked down. She gritted her teeth, enraged - was that all the air she could get?!
Looking at her progress was a mistake. She gasped in horror as her diverted focus caused her to forget about her wings. Even if was for a split second, she fell about a good twenty centimetres, just like how much her stomach dropped.
“Faster... faster!” Her blood boiled as she tried to regain some air. Unfortunately, her feathers felt like they were about to molt with how much she was flapping. In a second, her wings shut down and she fell to her knees, panting for oxygen.
“Oh, horseapples!” She pounded the floor with her front hooves, not caring if anyone heard her or if she was hurting herself. Hot tears streamed down freely, stinging her cheeks and dripping to the floor.
Rainbow Dash and everypony says “You did your best!” and “Nice try!” and “We’re proud of you, Scootaloo!”, so why do I still feel so pathetic? Is this really all I have?!
Before she could utter more profanities, a squeak of wood snapped her out of her mental tirade. She looked up to where the sound came from, and noticed a platform above her, acting as a second floor of sorts. She brushed away her tears again and checked to see if she wasn’t hallucinating.
“A second floor?” Scootaloo mumbled, shaking her head awake. She looked around and noticed a ladder leading to the platform. Was that always there? “Huh.”
Not knowing what else to do, and the mystery of the second floor now blooming in her mind, she began climbing the ladder. She considered trying to fly up but scoffed away the thought.
“Not like it’s gonna do any good.”
When she reached the top of the ladder, what she found was a large box with papers and pencils strewn about. when she got closer, she saw most of the papers had sketches and various doodles. “A comic?”
Her curiosity in full throttle and depression forgotten, Scootaloo inspected the pages more closely.
It was indeed rough sketches for a comic. Specifically, it was for the Foaly comic strips for the Canterlot Times. She recognized the main character, an ordinary, unnamed filly, even with only her outlines. After all, Foaly was the only part of the newspaper she read after her parents were done with it.
It was nothing special. Mostly about this normal pony who would go on a wacky three-to-five panel misadventure before failing in her objective, only to finish off with a sometimes thought-provoking phrase at the end of the strip. The main character was, again, nopony special. Just an earth pony filly with a simple design, bright eyes and an optimistic view on life. Just like any other foal.
Well, maybe every foal except a certain pegasus filly at the moment.
What appeared on the papers were, however, only rough drafts. She looked at the pencils scattered around the box, and rubbed her chin in thought.
Is somepony in the Apple family the creator of Foaly? Naw, the artist’s name is Silent Pen. What kind of Apple pony would have a name like that?
“A pony that uses a pseudonym, that’s who.”
Scootaloo’s innards turned icy, and her wings flared in shock. She was petrified, as if turning around to face the pony behind her would cause him to knock her down. It took her several moments to recognize the voice’s owner, but that didn’t calm her. If anything, it made her even stiffer.
“Hello, there.”
“He-hey, Big M-mac.”
A large, red hoof rested on her back, warming and melting her into letting her wings down. “Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t mean ta scare ya,” he said in his deep, smooth voice.
Scootaloo coarsely chuckled, still somewhat frozen. “Heh-heh, that’s alright. Uh... was I thinking that out loud?”
“Eeyup,” Big Mac said. “Now not to be rude, especially to a lady—” Scootaloo’s cheeks burned at being referred to as such, but it was more from indignation than embarrassment - she was nothing like Rarity! “—but what are you doing here? Did Granny sent ya?”
“Yeah, kinda.” She took some deep breaths to relax her muscles before turning to face the towering red stallion. “I just... wanted to get a walk, that’s all. Got a lot on my head after being chosen as flag-bearer for the Equestria Games, ya know?”
“Eeyup. Sure sounded like it.”
Blood rushed through her body, causing every inch of her skin to prickle. Of course he would’ve heard her little outburst. He was right above her, after all. Looking anywhere but the stallion, she gestured at the papers and pencils, hoping to divert his train of thought from her tantrum.
“So...you really write the Foaly, Big Mac?”
“Eeyup. Writer and illustrator.”
“What was that thing you said you used? A sue... Pseudo—”
“Pseudonym,” Big Mac finished with a chuckle. “You should know what it is. You and the Crusaders used one for that gossip column.”
“Oh… yeah.” She stared down at her hooves, the shameful memory resurfacing like a worm during a rainy day. “Sorry about that.”
“Y’all already apologized to tha whole town. We’ve all accepted your apology.” He gathered all the papers into a pile and worked on picking up all the pencils. “I know y’all aren’t workin’ for that column anymore, but d’you mind not tellin’ anypony about this? It’s just a little hobby of mine, and I don’t want anypony thinkin’ strange of me.”
“What?” Scootaloo frowned. Something in her ignited, forcing her mouth to keep running. “Why would anypony think you’re strange? Sure, you don’t talk a whole lot, but you’re a nice pony and everypony likes you. Besides,” she tapped on the papers with a small smile, “you draw really good.”
Another chuckle. “Really well.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing.” Big Mac laughed again, this time a bit louder so the platform shook. “It’s just that...it’s a little secret hobby of mine, y’know?”
“Ohhhhh…” Scootaloo was astounded, even though such a quality was to be expected from such a quiet stallion. In fact, she may have heard more out of him this afternoon than Apple Bloom in her entire life. Who knew how many layers of personality on top of his already giant frame he had? “I swear I’ll never speak a word of what happened here!” She finished with a dramatic salute, grinning proudly.
“Pinkie swear?”
Scootaloo was taken aback. “Aren’t we too old for that stuff?” Nevertheless, she succumbed to his expectant stare and said the vow. “Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake… in my....”
She couldn’t finish. Diamond Tiara’s taunts, her failure at flying all came flashing back to her like a flashlight beaming right in her face. She felt her eyes moistening and immediately turned away from Big Mac.
“Something wrong?” He reached out a hoof, but Scootaloo stepped out of his reach when he touched her. Something was wrong.
“No!” she blurted, making him jump. “I-I mean…it’s just that...” she furiously rubbed her eyes for the third time. “I thought I could tell you a secret of mine instead of doing that silly Pinkie Pie Promise, is all!” She turned around and faced him with a determined look, stomping her hoof for good measure.
Big Mac blinked. He could tell she was putting on a tough act. Something she picked up from Rainbow Dash, probably. He could see her eyes were a bit pinkish, a symptom he was very familiar with as a foal.
Thankfully, this also meant he knew how to cure it. “Alright. Let’s hear it. I’ll even Pinkie Promise not ta tell anypony afterwards.” He sat down, prompting her to follow through.
Scootaloo smiled weakly, taking comfort at the thought of him staying quiet. “Thanks, Big Mac. You’re no Rainbow Dash, but you’re pretty close,” she jested weakly. Taking a deep breath, she began.
"When I came back from the Crystal Empire, I just thought during the train ride back, ‘I did awesome after all, but how much more awesomer would I’ve been if I did fly for it?’ But then everypony said I did perfectly, even without me flying, but I still didn’t feel any better.
“Then I remembered how hard I worked during our rehearsals so that I could fly. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon egged me to do it, but that’s not important. I tried my best, I really did, to fly like all the other pegasus ponies at my age, but what was I thinking, trying to do something like that in just three days when I had weeks, months of training before that?
“I promised myself that I would work twice, three times, four times as harder than before so I could fly for my part of the routine, but even with all that, I still couldn’t do it.
She was subconsciously pacing around Big Mac now. As much as it pained his neck, he kept his eyes locked with Scootaloo’s, not hoping to discourage her from talking.
“Then I thought, ‘What if it’s impossible? What if I never fly?’ It wouldn’t matter what anypony would say. I would still be stuck on the ground. I’ll just be known forever as “that pegasus pony that can’t fly”!
“I hoped that I would forget about it, thought that when I wake up from the train ride back home, it would have just disappeared, but no! I couldn’t stop thinking about it! Thinking about it made me so sad a few hours ago, but now I’m so mad and sad and... and I don’t know what else to think or feel!
“Just now, when I tried to fly, right here, I thought I would be a lot better, since I trained way harder than I did before, but all I got was just a single centimetre and a second of air time! After all that?! I did my best! I was so mad, and I still am! I don’t know why, but I just am!”
Scootaloo was now heaving for breath. Her face was a mess of mane and tears that would make anypony cringe just by looking at her. She didn’t even notice she had started chewing on her mane or her wings were flapping on time with her punctuated words.
Big Mac, however, was not like anypony. He retained the same expression on his face the whole time, even as Scootaloo now stared him down with bloody eyes, daring him to make a move.
Big Mac nodded slowly to avoid provoking her. He knew at this point, she was going to explode with the mildest of stimuli, so he had to be careful with what he said. When Scootaloo copied his nodding, he pressed on as gently and quietly as he could. “What are you angry about—”
“I’m angry at myself!”
She slammed her front hooves down. The platform shook, but Big Mac knew it would hold from all the times he himself struck the innocent floor in frustration from artist’s block. Scootaloo was more important.
She was now crumpled on the floor, shivering like a leaf with her fetlocks trying to sponge away tears and phlegm on her muzzle. Her entire body was convulsing so much that Big Mac was worried she might fall over the edge of the platform.
Thinking of nothing but the sobbing filly in front of him, he managed to remain silent despite his stature and walked over to her. Sliding himself next to her, he picked her up and wrapped her around his hooves, not caring about the mess he made on himself. He promised himself to never let go until she stopped shaking. Even if it meant getting a scolding from Granny Smith for being late afterwards.
After about five minutes, Scootaloo had calmed down and wiped away as much wetness as possible from herself.
“Danks,” she murmured nasally. Snorting as a hard as she could to clear her nasal cavity, she looked at Big Mac with puffy eyes. “Zorry about da mess.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” With his extra-large limbs, he reached to the stack of sketches and tried to wipe his coat free of moisture. “Sorry I don’t keep any tissues here, but you can use these as much as you’d like.”
“Dat’s fine.” She grabbed one of the sheets and blew her nose like she would with a handkerchief.
“Just roll it into a ball and leave it on the ground. I’ll clean up later.”
“Thanks.”
They proceeded to tidy themselves a silent fashion until crumbled papers littered the floor and only one blank sheet remained on the box.
“Sorry about all your work going to waste,” Scootaloo said tearfully. Luckily, by this point, she didn’t think she had any more tears to shed.
“That’s alright. Those were all just rough ideas. Nothing worth sending to the papers.” Big Mac sighed in relief. It looked like Scootaloo was putting herself back together. “I’m sorry if this is rude—”
“Don’t be,” Scootaloo interrupted with a wave of her hoof. “I just cried all over your coat. If anypony’s rude, it’s me.”
They both shared a tiny smile before Big Mac continued. “Why didn’t you tell Rainbow Dash about this sooner? I thought she was your idol and such.”
“I didn’t want to bum everyone out of their celebration. She and everypony else was having so much fun. You should have seen their looks when I told them I was going out for a walk.”
An awkward silence fell between them. Scootaloo wanted to be the first to break it, saying that now that she told him her secret, they were even and that they should return before anypony noticed.
But it was Big Macintosh that started talking. “Another thing… how did you know about Foaly in the first place?”
Scootaloo’s eyes narrowed, confused. “Huh? I read the comics, duh! It’s like the only part of the news I read!”
“And do you read a lot of it?”
“Well... some of them.”
“Just some?”
“... Okay, okay! I’ve read all of them! Happy?” She pouted, anticipating him to wear a smug smirk, but he kept that same poker face the whole time.
“Do you remember what the main character says at the end of every comic?”
“Er…” This was unexpected. She only read the comic mostly for the wacky hijinks the main character went through. “Most of them, I think. I never paid too much attention to the ending unless it was the punch line or something.”
“You were too distracted with what would happen to the filly, weren’t you?”
Her jaw dropped. “How did you know-”
Big Mac nodded in approval of her shocked face. “Because I based that filly off of you and the Crusaders. Haven’t y’all noticed the pattern?” He then gave her the widest smile she ever saw him wear.
Scootaloo opened her mouth to retort on how absurd the idea was, but it slowly dawned on her that it was true. All those adventures, all those failures, and still managing to scavenge what optimism she had to go off on her next adventure, only to repeat this cycle. It was just like the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ expeditions to find their cutie marks, only with the filly, her objective was to teach the reader a life lesson.
“When I handed my first comic strip in, the folks at Canterlot Daily loved it, and I made a deal with ’em. A new strip every week. Just another way to earn money to fix up the orchard outside of Apple buck season, but it’s good.”
“Waitwaitwait, just a sec.” Scootaloo sputtered like a motor, still not fully comprehending what was being said. “One, you were just copying down what happened to us during crusading? And two, why are you telling me this? Aren’t we square after what I told you?”
Big Mac wrapped his legs around her and pulled her in close. She didn’t like being cuddled like this that often, but she couldn’t complain about the warmth his body provided. “For your first question, I couldn’t always keep track of what you did on your crusadin’, so I made up mah own stories after that incident with you and the cockatrice.” He heard her nervously chuckle at the mention but didn’t remain on the topic. “For the second question… no, we’re not square. A secret like yours compared to mine is like comparing an anthill to a mountain. I need to tell you a couple more secrets if we’re supposed to be square.”
Scootaloo looked down, blushing again. Being confided in so much when she’s in such a wreck wasn’t fair, darn it!
Taking her silence as compliance, Big Mac pulled her in deeper and looked forward. She didn’t know it, but he was just as embarrassed as she was. Still, he had never talked so much in his life, so he might as well start now.
“Tha only reason why I draw that comic is so that I got to do what I liked, not what I’m good at.” When he looked down and saw Scootaloo’s confused look, he nodded. “What I mean is that... ya don’t have to be good at what you do. Sure, I like takin’ care of the farm, helpin’ out around the town… but sometimes, I’d rather sit down here, relax, and draw at mah own pace.”
“But why don’t you just work harder on the comics so you can earn more money?” Scootaloo blurted. When she realized her interruption, she shrank back into his hooves. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“S’alright,” Big Mac said. “The reason why I don’t try too hard with drawin’ is that I’m puttin’ all mah strength to apple buckin’ and fixin’ around the farm. ‘Sides, drawin’ has to come naturally. ‘S not something that can be done properly just by thinkin’ hard.”
“If only flying came to me naturally.” She sighed, hugging one of Big Mac’s legs anxiously.
“You think apple buckin’ comes “naturally” ta me, too?” Big Mac chuckled. “It didn’t. Heck, I was the most terrible apple bucker mah family’s seen when I was a colt.”
“No way!” Scootaloo exclaimed. “Applejack told me how you can buck a tree right out of the ground! And we saw you pull a whole house before!”
“Eeyup. But I wasn’t always “Big” Macintosh. “Little Mac”, my Pa called me when I was just learnin’ to buck apples. I’m serious,” he insisted when Scootaloo giggled at the name. “I was tall for foals mah age, but I was thinner than a fence post. First time buckin’, I twisted my leg.”
“I still can’t believe all that.” Scootaloo frowned. “How did you get so... big? What did you do?”
At this, Big Mac gave funny smile, as if the answer was obvious. “Ya said ya tried your best to fly, didn’t ya?”
“Yeah. So?”
“I tried more than mah best.”
“Huh?!”
“I tried more than-”
“I heard you the first time!” Scootaloo squirmed out of his grasp and glared at him. “How the hay do you try more than your best? What does that even mean?!”
Big Mac, not expecting her to be so furious, blinked in surprise, but didn’t break away from her eyes. “It means just that. Ya don’t think you can do that?”
“You can’t do more than your best!” She stomped the floor again. Big Mac kept staring back at her, until her bravado slowly cracked. Her facial muscles loosened until her grimace was replaced with something resembling a pout. “Can you?”
“How will you know if you don’t try?”
Those simple words caught Scootaloo off-guard. The phrase kept her quiet as it kept replaying in her head. She knew she heard that phrase somewhere, Big Mac could see it. She just needed somepony to egg her on.
“That line, it’s—”
“Oh yeah!” Scootaloo chirped loudly, raising a hoof in triumph of her recollection. “It was from... one of the Foaly strips, wasn’t it?”
“Eeyup. One of Pa’s many favorite sayin’s.”
Something went ‘click’ in Scootaloo’s mind so quickly, so obviously, that she couldn’t stop herself. “Are all the last lines from the main characters a phrase of your dad’s?”
“Most of ‘em,” Big Mac said. “Mah Pa loved to spout most of ‘em to encourage me to work harder. Since Apple Bloom hadn’t been born yet and Applejack was still an infant, all of his time was spent on me, teaching me about how to take care of the farm and such.
“But the first thing he taught me was how to buck for apples. After mah first blunder, Pa made sure that I would become an expert in applebuckin’ before anything else. Any time I had spare time, he would take me out and practise on the biggest tree in tha orchard. Ya know how he knew I was ready for apple bucking for real?”
“What?” Scootaloo was now fully absorbed, waiting for the next hook like in one of her Daring Do books.
“He wouldn’t let me stop until I knocked the whole darned tree over.”
That got her by surprise. “No.”
“Eeyup.”
“As a colt?!” Scootaloo remained silent. The image of a spindly little foal knocking over a colossal tree by himself was almost inconceivable. “Nopony can do that!”
“And I couldn’t. But whenever I got tired, tired enough to go sick right there on the grass, Pa would keep pushing me. One ‘specially hard day, I got mad enough to scream at him, tell him I’m trying my best to knock it down, but it won’t.
“An’ he told me “Have ya tried more than your best?” I told him exactly what you said to me. So he said back, “How do ya know ya tried more than your best if you don’t even try?””
Scootaloo’s mouth was wide open as she felt her comprehension hit her like a sledgehammer. “So... trying more than your best is just... trying your best?”
“Nope,” he said. “Not just that. It means you don’t just work hard. You work hard and long enough until you, yourself, are happy with it. If you know what you want, then all you gotta do is work hard enough to get it, even if anypony tells you that you can’t do something. ‘Specially when you tell yourself what you want is impossible.”
“But, but!” she stammered, frustrated at his message. “If it’s impossible, why would anypony try to do it?”
Big Mac frowned, rubbing his chin in contemplation. “So you’re sayin’ it’s better to give up on somethin’ than to try, even once?”
“Ah... that’s not what I meant!” She shook her head to get her thoughts straight. “No matter how much you try, or how hard you work, what if you still don’t get what you want?”
"You try again and again and again.” He looked at the crumpled papers around him and swept them up the best he could. “Another reason why I draw comics, was because I really liked the heroes in comic books, but I really didn’t like how tha stories went. There’s some crisis, the hero swoops in and saves the day. It just didn’t feel all that realistic.
"But after Pa passed away, Applejack started growin’ up so fast and helped around the farm way more than I did. She told me to stop wastin’ my time buckin’ that old tree. It was probably the only time I was really mad at her.” To Scootaloo, his voice went low at that, sounding sad and filled with regret.
“After a few years of practicing, I didn’t know what made me do it, but I promised Pa that he would see me buck that tree down the hill. But he passed away to some disease the doctors couldn’t cure. Ma disappeared after trying to make some business at Stalliongrad. Searched for a whole year before we found her body, dead.” Scootaloo shivered as he said that. He sounded so emotionless that, for a tiny second, she became afraid. It soon passed as he began speaking again.
“But I didn’t stop my buckin’. After Pa passed away, I kept kicking that tree over and over again, not bothering with eating meals sometimes. So finally, after a couple more years of kicking, I knocked it down. I was so happy that I cried right there.”
“So because you never gave up, you really did buck a whole tree down.” Scootaloo was in awe. Big Mac was now rivalling Rainbow Dash in awesomeness.
“Eeyup. Applejack and I removed the stump to make room for a new apple tree, but I kept that stump until it rotted away.”
“So you never gave up... on trying to knock over a tree?” Scootaloo asked. “What made that tree so special that you wouldn’t stop bucking it? Was it just because of your promise to your dad?”
“Nope.” Big Mac finally rounded up all the papers into a neat pile and wondered what to do with them. Probably throw them out later. “If it was just the promise, I would have quit when Pa died.
"it was pride. The shame you feel from not accomplishing something, yet the feeling you get when you go out there and do it... I think it’s the same thing that drives you to keep trying to fly.”
Scootaloo pouted. “But so far, I haven’t been able to fly for all that long. What am I doing wrong?”
“You’re not doing anything wrong. But don’t forget that everytime ya check your progress, ya get a little better. All you can do is keep at it.” Big Mac rubbed her mane gently, “Do you remember this line from Foaly? ‘I guess not everypony’s born the same.’”
“Yeah. I always thought that meant everypony was different, so they were special. Like their cutie marks.” She gritted her teeth. Her ears grew hot, and she stared at the pile of scrunched up papers. “Now I get it. Not everypony’s born the same, so they’ll always be those that are different, smaller, bigger, better than others.”
“Eeyup. Some ponies just have a harder time trying to get what they want compared to other ponies. It’s not fair, but it seems like a fact of life to me.”
“So what should I do then?” Scootaloo looked up, feeling tears welling up again. She was completely helpless. She wanted, needed, somepony to tell her what to do, what she was doing wrong, how to get better. “What should I do?”
Big Mac sighed. He didn’t want to say it, but he didn’t want to risk leading her down a wrong path by mistake. “I don’t know, Scootaloo.”
The filly sighed, the loudest she had sighed all day. It had been the first time he had said her name out loud. If anything, it only made her crave for an answer even more, but she gave up for now. “I thought so.”
“But,” Big Mac started. The last thing he wanted was to send the poor filly off feeling worse than before, “that doesn’t mean the way you’re practicing to fly is the wrong one. Ask Rainbow Dash to help you out. Don’t worry about bothering her. If she’s really taken you under her wing, she should be learnin’ about how different y’all are and how differently she should be teaching ya.
“Second, look at other pegasus foals. See how they fly compared to you, and fix whatever mistakes ya have before Rainbow Dash points them out. I’m not sayin’ that your techniques’ wrong. You keep working, get higher and higher for longer periods of time, but better to learn from other ponies’ mistakes than ta learn from your own.”
Scootaloo couldn’t help but smile a little. “Yeah, I remember than line from Foaly, too.”
“And finally...” Big Mac walked up to her so he was towering over her. He made sure not to break eye-contact. Not when he’s got her rapt attention. “Have ya tried your best?”
Scootaloo’s eyes widened. It was such an unexpected question that she yelped “Yes!”
Big Mac smiled at her enthusiasm. “Then have ya tried more than your best?”
She broke her gaze with him and looked at her wings, which she instinctively flapped. Her mouth formed an “o” shape that gradually transformed into the widest smile she had ever made. “No. I haven’t, have I?”
The red stallion nodded, his own smile still stuck on his face. “So go out there and do just that. You’re the hardest workin’ filly I know, so there’s nothin’—”
He didn’t have time to finish. Scootaloo collided into him with a hug that caused even the stallion to keep his face from showing pain. “Now I get it! Thanks, Big Mac! You’re the bestest, right up there with Rainbow Dash!”
Big Mac felt like his entire skin was burning. He was thankful that his coat was red, or she might have seen his entire body blushing. He gingerly patted her mane again, only managing to utter a good “Eeyup”, not even bothering to correct her grammar like last time.
He looked up from her small frame and noticed the last sheet of paper on his box. A light went off in his head, and he quickly but smoothly freed himself from Scootaloo’s hold and picked up the nearest pencil.
“Big Mac?” Scootaloo asked, making her way beside him. “What are you doing now?”
He spat out the pencil and gave her a one-legged hug. “Well, thanks to you, I got an idea for the next strip of Foaly!” He rarely added much volume to his voice, but he was too enraptured by his new inspiration to care.
“Really?” Scootaloo jumped in excitement, her wings beating like a hummingbird’s to keep her suspended a few seconds longer. “What’s it gonna be about? When can you send it to Canterlot for publishing?”
But he ignored most of her rambling, and he picked up his pencil again. “‘ell Granny Smith ‘at I’m comin’. Jus’ go on wi’out me.”
Like that, her face sunk in horrific realization. “Oh yeah!” she screamed to herself. She had promised everypony that she was going out for a walk. She had to get back before the sun fully set. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it then!” She jumped of the platform, and with her wings to soften the landing, darted out the barn door. “Thanks for the great advice!”
Big Mac only lazily nodded at her departing words. He wanted to sketch the basic plot and framework before he forgot it.
Let’s see... the main character, after failing in her adventures for the umpteenth time, would start getting depressed about it.
And just when it looks like it’s the end of Foaly, a brand new pony, a pegasus pony, enters the last panel, and tells the main character, “Have you tried more than your best?”
Ha! I didn’t want to put this in for a while. I always thought most ponies would just be like her at first. Just think of it as a little motivation to work even harder.
But if they know...if they understand just what it means to work hard, they’ll feel the same feeling Scootaloo and I felt.
I’ll come up with a name for the pegasus pony later, but more importantly, what should the title of the strip be?
He reflexively looked up and saw the barn door ajar from Scootaloo’s exit. He smirked at the pony’s energy and returned to his paper.
Pa, Ma. If you’re listening right now, then I just want to say thanks for all your hard work. You taught me what it means to struggle and succeed, and now I’ve done the same to another pony. You kept saying how if we all worked just a little more harder and honestly, the world would be a million times better.
“But that moral can wait for another strip.” Big Mac spat out the pencil and picked up the paper. Underneath the seven-panel strip were four large, underlined words.
More Than Your Best